


Petals to Dust

by hocotate



Series: Oneshots [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Romance, hunlay - Freeform, layhun - Freeform, sexing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hocotate/pseuds/hocotate
Summary: Love smells like honey and lavender, and Sehun falls for a dimpled barista.





	Petals to Dust

_något säger mig att du blir borta  
en lång, lång tid_

  
The trees had just blossomed into a sea of pink and green when Sehun fell in love with the new hire at the coffee shop downtown. It was the typical love story found usually in films, an assembly of clichés and god given coincidences. It was all he had ever gagged at as a teen when coerced by his friends into binge-watching dramas, but he didn't really mind it as long as it wouldn't end. He was one of the main characters, after all, one of those whose ending would be happy no matter how much hardship he would have to go through.  
  
He loved the way Yixing’s eyes teared up whenever a coworker scolded him for dropping change or messing up some obnoxious order. He loved the way the barista’s gaze would travel across the room only to land on Sehun, and how he would blush uncontrollably when caught doing so. He loved his hair which was messy beyond saving, his heavy eyelids, his trembling fingers. He could dream for hours on end about how Yixing would always trip over nothing or how cold his fingers had felt against his own when they first held hands in some park near the shop. He would in his mind replay memories of their spontaneous nights out over and over again until Yixing’s dimple had imprinted on his corneas, the image of that shy little smile showing clearly before him every morning when he woke up from dreams that had at first seemed unattainable.  
  
“I like you. I wanna sit on your face,” had been slurred one time by Yixing who apparently couldn't handle his alcohol. Drinks had been gulped down in spite of his low tolerance, one confession leading to another until his every thought had been laid out bare to be read by anyone who happened to pass by.  
  
Sehun had found his drunken state adorable, with a fuzzy feeling and knees all weak reaching out to poke that dimple. Not even the thought of vomit had scared him enough to stop what they were doing, for the secrets whispered in between the laughter had been just what he needed to swallow his own fear. They had, after all, only held hands, an innocent act not uncommon among friends.  
  
Giggles had spilled in a passionate manner when Yixing’s straddled Sehun’s lap to hug him as though there was no one else around to judge them, mumbling something completely unintelligible before passing out right there and then. He had looked so pretty then, with his mouth hanging open eyes half-lidded, as beautiful as if not more than when he cried over nothing.  
  
Sehun had pecked his cheek then on a whim, for he, too, had been drunk and too in love to control his own actions.  
  
The apologies stuttered the morning after when Yixing stood hungover by the counter were cute. He was hiding his puffy face from Sehun with lean fingers all covered in bandaid, his hair still tangled but smelling of coffee. The owner of the shop was nagging him to straighten up and to stop crying while in the presence of customers, but Yixing’s tears kept running in rivulets, his sobs loud, yet absolutely beautiful.  
  
He was embarrassed without reason, afraid to get rejected in spite of Sehun having carried him home after those speeches that had been dramatic, at the least. He hadn’t yet realised that his feelings were reciprocated or that what Sehun saw in those shimmery eyes wasn’t the tears or the broken capillaries, but each and everyone of his own newborn dreams involving them two together, laughing instead of crying.  
  
Sehun’s heart started fluttering like that of a child when Yixing looked up from behind that fringe, his face so pretty even when swollen. He couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t, that his stupid heart kept pounding against his ribs until it physically hurt to do else but smile.  
  
“Please don’t cry,” was what he said then while leaning over the counter to wipe those silly tears away. “I wanna sit on your face, too,” was what he joked with a laugh, although completely serious and with his eyes seeking Yixing’s to prove his own sincerity.  
  
It was painful, in a way, coming to love someone irrevocably like that. Yet, Sehun found no reason to be scared because he knew at the moment Yixing stopped crying that just as with the growing pains he had suffered from when young, it would all be more than worth it in the end. His life had, after all, turned worthwhile over cups of tea with the leaves still in them, if meaning embodied was dimples and pouts and eyelashes throwing long shadows under flickering streetlights.  
  
  


 

  
  
  
Yixing’s lips tasted like honey and lavender when they shared their first kiss. They were a bit chapped and his palms a bit sweaty, but all Sehun could see or even feel were the stars in his eyes and the smell of his breath, the texture of his messy hair when he tugged at it gently while deepening the kiss. It didn’t matter that turned a bit wet or that their teeth clashed together a few times too many, because they poured all they had into that one single kiss as though they knew that tomorrow wouldn’t be theirs to share.  
  
Sehun when he finally pulled back felt no longer bothered by his own frantically beating heart. He had noticed the way its speed matched the one which he could feel through lips and clasping hands, and he knew by the look in Yixing’s eye that although words were at that point redundant, there was at least no need to fear the response.  
  
“I love you,” was bold even as a whisper, but the answer came quickly, breathed against skin.  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
His only regret was that he didn't bring Yixing home on that night.  
  


 

  
  
  
  
Weeks passed by without a sign, and Sehun eventually stopped hoping for one. He had been left at that kiss and now there was nothing, not even a dimpled little smile or the shyest of glances sent across the coffee shop downtown.  
  
Tears were now reserved for nights spent shouting at gods that knew as little as he, and mornings were wasted asking himself if he could still smell Yixing in the shirt he had worn. The scent was, of course, long since gone, but he didn’t know if he had grown used to it at last or if time had just washed it away like it had done with those dreams made possible by a smile.  
  
He wondered where he was, the one who had left him with questions on that night, if his lips would today taste like honey or like ashes. He prayed in silence that Yixing had just left, that his lips had played games and spilled insincere words. He prayed every night until his eyelids fell shut, but no god was listening and neither was Yixing.  
  
  


 

  
  
  
Sehun had just watched the last remains of summer wither when the officers in charge called him over for a ‘talk’. Their faces when he entered bore imperturbable expressions, that professional stoicism faltering only briefly when met with the sight of a young, broken man who had already guessed for what purpose he was there.  
  
A photograph was slid across the table, passed onto Sehun for him to look at closely.  
  
“Do you know this boy?” they asked him softly, their voices trained not to cause any damage. They already knew the answer to that question, and if Sehun was to be truly honest, he, too, had considered the possibility of that all of these lonely months had been leading up this.  
  
The photograph in his hand wasn’t blurry or even grainy, and he dropped it in an instant along with his eyelids. All he could see when he squeezed his eyes shut was that face he had kissed on that night long ago, now painted blue and with strokes of red stretching across skin that used to be pale, but never transparent.  
  
He recalled the days spent holding hands shyly after Yixing’s shifts at the coffee shop were over, and once again after ages of pretending that the dimpled boy had just left him with intent, he let his tears flow freely down his cheeks. He couldn’t breathe, and neither did he want to, for what point was there in doing so when the one with whom he was still deep in love had stopped drawing air on the night on which they kissed.  
  
Pats on his shoulder after they guided him outside were just condolences in disguise, forced formalities. They offered him a ride and that was it, the ultimate ending to that typical love story which had been filled with clichés that were as rare as they were precious.  
  
There came no closure and that was when Sehun realised, at last, that he wasn't the character of some cheesy drama, but of a tragedy. He knew now, finally, that Yixing didn’t taste like honey, but of ashes, that the now washed out scent he had left on Sehun’s shirt was the last remaining part of him left.  
  
If Sehun had not been afraid to bring him home, maybe then would Yixing have been right there, with him. If their kiss had lasted for longer than it did, maybe then would Yixing have been smiling even now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on an angst-roll /sings CBX in my head/, so here's something i wrote when i couldn't sleep instead of just being productive or whatnot (❀◦‿◦)


End file.
